Happy Birthday Jeff!!!

It's my brother Jeff's birthday.

He's old.

Seriously, old.

Actually, since he's only a year younger than me, I can't really call him old, because that would be calling myself old. And I am not...Old.

Here are a few random facts about Jeffy...

My brother:

-is handy with a scalpel
- worships Metallica - and Barry Manilow. Yes, my brother is a complex man.
- tolerated my pinching, pushing and murder attempts from ages 1-5
- loves Taco Johns, like any good North Dakotan
- once knew Glenda the Good Witch
- plays a mean trumpet
- was in Jazz Band, Student Government, Track, Theater, Speech Team, Varsity Band, Concert Band, etc. etc.
- has no hair, partly by choice, partly by genes
- hosts Burger House many times a year - yum!
- taught and encourages my grandma to swear like a sailor
- greets me with a random kick or punch, as I do him (we will forever be 8 yrs old)
- meows when he answers the phone
- operated on insurgents in Iraq, and is a BADASS
- is an accomplished orthopaedic surgeon, and works for SLU
- would do anything for his family, and on many occasions has done so
- drives the biggest, baddest black truck (even though it's currently undergoing major surgery at an area dealership because Jeff is a BADASS)
- started the Dirty Santa trend
- worked at Bonanza, starting as a busser and working his way up to head of the grill
- just rocks.

Jeff is amazing. I'm so lucky to have such a wonderful brother. While growing up, we fought. A lot. But we grew out of that, and I'm glad he lives here now, because now that we do get along and like each other, I would miss him if he wasn't close by.

Below is one of his favorite songs. Jeff, this one's for you.

Well, shoot....

Went to the optometrist today.

Blurry vision in my left eye.

Farsighted.

Ordered glasses.

Suck. Suck. Suck.

I needed a shoulder to cry on. Someone who would understand, sympethize, make me feel better.

So I called my very sweet, sensitive brother and unloaded the most awesome news.

This is how the conversation went...

I said, "I just ordered my glasses."

He said, "Did you get to pick out your cane, too?"

I answered, "No, but my walker is hot pink with tennis balls on the feet."

And he replied, "When does the catheter arrive?"

And I retorted, "No catheter, but my IV is running nicely."

He came back with, "How many cats do you have now?"

I threw it back with, "Five, and they attack the pink flamingo in my front yard."

He responded with, "You're old now."

And I finished with, "Fuck you."

And he giggled.

Our conversations would do a Judd Apatow movie proud.

This is how I hope my glasses make me look...ha.

Thanks Jeff

Kind of a crap day. Trying to shake it off. I know tomorrow will be better.

On the positive side, my brother has been an endless well of support for me, and that means a lot. Thanks, Jeff.

Jeff is a rock in our family, is really an endless well of support for most of us, and he'll soon be getting what he worked so hard for these last, oh, 30 years. Granted, he didn't know when he was in 1st grade exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up, but he worked his little butt off anyway.

And it's all paying off.

He's an orthopedic surgeon, one of the best, and has accepted a dream job with a local university/hospital. Actually, they've wanted him for years, and held off hiring anyone for this open position until he was available. You see, he's loved by all.

I'm so happy for him - it's about time he gets to lean way back in his chair, clasp his hands behind his head, and breath that big sigh of "Yesssss".

My Family

I ran across this picture of my mom and brother taken on Christmas Eve 2007. It was taken at my aunt Deb's house. I'm sure my mom will kill me for posting this picture, but I think it's a really nice one of her.

That's my brother Jeff standing next to her. He doesn't always look that mental, he's playing it up for the picture. He's an orthopedic surgeon, and a darn good one. He's been to Iraq twice, courtesy of the USAF, and helped to save the lives of soldiers as well as Iraqi civilians and insurgents. He's out of the Air Force now, thank goodness, safe and sound in St. Louis.

My mom came for Christmas this year also, and I believe she is reverse aging. She looked about 15 years younger. I remember when we all met up at the Olive Garden the night she flew in, I sat next to her and was amazed at how luminous and wrinkle free her face was. She was radiant. Since I'm adopted, I won't be able to claim those good genes, but maybe I can attribute her healthy glow to growing up in ND, so that I can get in on the secret.

When it snows out, like it is doing now, I miss my home, and my mom. Even though I believe that my old room has been turned into the "computer room", I'm sure I could walk in that room and feel just right. I wish I could wake up there tomorrow morning, knowing it's a snow day by the sound of her in the kitchen making pancakes with the TV on listing the school closings. That's the best.

Then later, when we'd be playing Boggle, she'd put on the Chuck Mangione record. Something soothing like that.

So, I saw this picture, and it's the closest I'm going to get to home right now.

And there you have it.